


KillChalla Drabbles

by pastelfeathers



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Body Switch, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfeathers/pseuds/pastelfeathers
Summary: Prompts from tumblr, including: body swap AU





	KillChalla Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely anon on tumblr who asked about body switching for KillChalla :)

Erik is dying.

He’s finally seen the damn sunset in Wakanda and he’s bleeding out.

And okay, it’s painful but fuck it, he understands why his pops always spoke of the sunset in such a reverent tone now, and he’s accepted his fate because he would rather die than be caged.

He says as much to T’Challa.

And closes his eyes.

This is where it ends.

Only, there’s a weird pulsing headache and everything goes fuzzy.

“The fuck-?” he says.

Then pauses.

Because the pain is gone.

He pats his chest and, and there’s nothing, he looks around and freezes-

He is dreaming. Or dead. Or both.

Because there is no way he is looking down at his body.

His still DYING body.

“N’Jadaka?”

Erik freezes.

That is his voice coming from his mouth and those are his eyes looking back at him. It is such an overwhelmingly odd experience that Erik doesn’t even have it in him to correct the usage of his birth name.

He stares at his body for a moment longer, then he lifts a hand and swallows down dread when he recognizes the suit that covers the hand he’s examining.

This is T’Challa’s suit.

“N’Jadaka,” his body says again, looking pained.

“Shit,” Erik hisses out as his mind reels in confusion, “oh fuck- T’Challa?”

His body- T’Challa nods, hands pressed against the still bleeding wound. “Perhaps you can call a medic,” T’Challa says diplomatically, inclining his head towards the kimoyo beads around his wrist.

Which is now Erik’s wrist.

Because somehow they’ve switched bodies.

Like some Freaky Friday bullshit.

This was not the plan.

This was not even in the final, guns blazing, burn all bridges plan.

Erik swallows.

“N’Jadaka,” T’Challa says again with Erik’s face and mouth, “please.”

Fucking fuck.

 

-

 

“This is a dream,” Erik mutters to himself, staring at the mirror. He touches his new face, T’Challa’s face, with gentle fingers.

Then he smacks himself hard and swears when the sting immediately sets in.

Okay.

Not a dream.

He walks out of the washroom and into the adjoining room.

The king’s private chambers actually, where T’Challa is sitting calmly in Erik’s body, which is completely healed (thanks to the heart shaped herb), and waiting for him.

They stare at each other.

It is weird.

It is really fucking weird to see his own face staring back at him (but with T’Challa’s expression). It feels like one of those failed face mash creations.

Erik inwardly winces.

“Look,” he says, raising his hands, “this is some messed up shit. But I think I know how to solve it.”

T’Challa gives him a slow appraising look, then nods, “I am listening.”

“You heard of Freaky Friday?”

“No,” T’Challa replies after some thought and frowns, “but I can research it.”

Erik shakes his head, “don’t bother, let me summarize for you.” He gestures between them with his hands.

“We switched bodies.”

That gets him a raised eyebrow and a slow nod.

Huh.

Erik never realized, but his face conveys judgmental skepticism really well.

“In order to switch back, we need to gain an appreciation,” he can’t help the disdain in his voice, “for each other’s perspective.”

T’Challa stares at him, wide-eyed.

This is less of a good look in Erik’s body.

“You want to,” T’Challa hesitates, “gain an appreciation for each other?”

“Perspective,” snaps Erik, “I ain’t about to look-” He stops and stares at T’Challa. “What,” he says, “have you looked at me, I mean you.” He makes a rapid, abortive motion with his hands.

T’Challa gives him a rather unimpressed look, “yes, I had to use the washroom right before you went in.”

“I thought you went to smack yourself in front of the mirror,” Erik hisses out, “not to like, fondle my body.”

“You smacked my body in front of the mirror?” T’Challa sounds offended.

“Don’t say it like that, and yeah,” Erik says, the duh obvious in his voice, “to make sure it’s not a dream.”

“Why would you dream about this?”

“It’s-” Erik begins, then switches track and points a finger at T’Challa, “hey no, this ain’t about me cuz. I’m not the one who went into the washroom to sneak a peek at another man’s dick.”

T’Challa winces.

In hindsight, that probably could have been better phrased.

“Fuck okay,” Erik says, trying to get them back on track, “we just need to talk it out okay, like, just spin some bullshit about Wakanda being good so I can correct you on all your mistakes and we can switch back.”

T’Challa frowns.

Erik frowns back.

“Or,” he says, “I can selflessly marry someone in your body and you can win a music contest with mine. Your pick cuz.”

T’Challa’s frown morphs into a puzzled look of concentration. “Marry?”

“Just start talking,” Erik interrupts with a sigh, “and remind me to get you the Freaky Friday DVD.”

 

-

 

Unsurprisingly, they don’t manage to talk it out in one night.

Erik resigns himself to seeing T’Challa’s dick.

And okay.

It’s not  ~~bad-looking~~  a big deal.

Really.

Not at all.

He definitely does not stand in front of the mirror and stare at T’Challa body.

That would be all kinds of  ~~arousing~~  stupid.

~~He also does not jerk off.~~

~~Nope.~~

 

-

 

They give up on talking after a few days.

Instead, at T’Challa’s tentative suggestion, they begin to do random activities together.

They take turns.

Erik wins the coin toss so he gets to go first.

He starts by making T’Challa watch Freaky Friday because they might as well as both understand the bullshit situation they are both stuck in. T’Challa’s face gets more and more scrunched up as the movie progresses and Erik can’t help but sympathize.

He finds himself doing that a lot lately.

Moving on.

T’Challa takes him on a tour around Wakanda. Erik gets a new pet rhino  ~~and an appreciation for the warmth in T’Challa’s voice when he speaks of his homeland~~.

Erik makes them watch anime together. He starts with Naruto and realizes a couple episodes in that T’Challa is giving Erik awkward side glances.

“What,” he says.

T’Challa gives him a thoughtful look and says quietly, “the village should not have shunned Naruto.”

Erik switches to Hayao Miyazaki works after that and bites back a horrified laugh when, at the end of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, T’Challa blinks out a tear during the scene with the baby Ohmu.

~~He wants to wipe the tear away.~~

T’Challa introduces the projects that he’s been working on with Shuri and he sounds so ridiculously proud of his younger sister that Erik finds himself smiling involuntarily back.

He’s getting soft.

It is…not an unwelcome realization.

Which in itself is terrifying.

In retaliation, Erik picks basketball and absolutely destroys T’Challa. Though the latter has the advantage of muscle memory, Erik spent a good portion of his formative years in the court, which more than made up for the new body  ~~(and it’s not as if T’Challa isn’t fit)~~.

But even though they’re both sweaty and gross and shouting increasingly ridiculous taunts at one another, Erik realizes that he’s having fun.

It’s inane and ridiculous, but somehow, somewhere along the way, Erik has grown to like T’Challa’s company. The man is smart as a whip, quietly funny and seems unphased by most things, even the body switching.

It’s an interesting experience.

Enjoyable even.

 

-

 

They also spar.

A lot.

Which means that Erik spends a lot of time staring at his own heaving chest.

He might also spend a long time staring at his current body in the mirror afterwards.

Which is probably weird.

Maybe.

He’s beginning to think that, after all this is over, he’d quite like to propose having a round or two in bed with T’Challa, which, again, is probably odd? But at this point, Erik’s pretty much seen everything there is to see and T’Challa isn’t bad company so-

“Fuck,” Erik whispers.

 

-

 

So okay.

Erik has seen Freaky Friday.

He gets it.

He needs to have a mental breakthrough.

And he was prepared for it.

But realizing that he might want to have a relationship with his male cousin, whom Erik has tried to kill, and who probably wants to lock Erik up?

Not ideal.

 

-

 

And because Erik is mature and knows how to handle his emotions, he avoids T’Challa for the entirety of the next day.

 

-

 

“N’Jadaka,” T’Challa says the next morning, standing stiffly at the door, “I-”

“It’s too early for this,” Erik mutters, “and seriously, it’s Erik.”

T’Challa hesitates but the look of stubborn determination does not fade. “May I?”

Erik sighs and backs away so T’Challa steps in.

There is a moment of silence as they seize each other up.

“There’s no good way to say this so how do you feel about having sex,” Erik proposes the same time T’Challa says, “I should not have switched us without your permission.”

They both pause.

“What,” says T’Challa.

“What,” says Erik.

“Did you say-”

“No,” Erik interrupts, “did you say switch?”

 

-

 

Turns out Wakanda is more advanced than Erik ever imagined.

They use the kimoyo beads to switch back.

 

-

 

Erik is righteously angry for a few days (because fuck you T’Challa, how dare you switch our bodies just so you can deny my dying wish) but he keeps slipping up. He’s spent so much time in T’Challa’s body and with T’Challa that he keeps unconsciously turning to share a smirk with the other man only to realize he’s not there, and he can’t watch Naruto anymore without seeing the parallels (and T’Challa’s wrong, Erik isn’t Naruto, if anything, he’s always felt more empathy towards Sasuke).

And basketball and training isn’t as much fun when T’Challa isn’t there for him to bait.

God damn it, he’s lost his mind.

 

-

 

“What else is there,” Erik says, barging into T’Challa’s office, mildly surprised that he wasn’t stopped at the door by the Dora Milaje.

T’Challa looks up from a thick report he’s holding and stares.

“What do you mean?”

Erik makes a frustrated noise, “What other side effects are there to the body switch?”

T’Challa has the audacity to look concerned, “Are you feeling ill?”

“Ill?” Erik laughs harshly, “yeah I’m fucking ill, I can’t stop thinking about-”

He cuts himself off.

But not quickly enough.

T’Challa’s eyes have widened. “Erik?” he asks quietly and hesitates before continuing, “did you mean your question the other day?”

And nope.

Erik did not sign up for this.

He stomps out of the room.

He does not flee.

(Even if it feels a bit like fleeing).

 

-

 

He doesn’t see T’Challa again until the evening, when the man, tired but tentatively smiling, knocks softly on his door.

T’Challa is holding up a copy of the My Neighbour Totoro DVD.

“Shuri recommended it,” he explains when Erik gives him an odd look.

Erik wants to shut the door on his face.

Instead, he wordlessly steps aside and lets the other in.

Not because he missed T’Challa’s quiet chuckles or anything.

He just really likes Totoro okay?

 

-

 

Later, Erik will laugh when T’Challa tentatively brushes against his hand and curl their fingers together.

“Y’know we’ve see each other’s dicks right,” Erik will mutter, just for the sake of seeing T’Challa’s exasperated little side glance.

He is not prepared, however, for T’Challa to innocently acknowledge that Erik is right and suggest holding other parts of each other’s body.

Huh.

Okay.

Maybe Erik’s not the only one who’s lost his mind.

 

-

 

But for now, there is just the gentle warmth of T’Challa curled next to him.

It is enough.


End file.
